


The Beginning of it All

by YueChama



Category: Original Work
Genre: Curses, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Death, F/M, Magic, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YueChama/pseuds/YueChama
Summary: In the beginning Emmalyn was a Lord's daughter, now she is nothing.Kinda dark, just warning you now.





	

    The stabbing sensation in Emmalyn’s shoulder told her she was in deep shit. She stumbled and fell into her captor’s arms. His foul breath made her nauseous.  She could feel the curse beginning its foul work, it was already harder to lift her head in resistance to the capture. Emmalyn felt herself being slung over his shoulder, as he stomped down the cold stone stairs to present her to his Lord. So his Lord could rape her repeatedly until she was pregnant so he would have a ligament  claim over her father’s lands as his own. Emmalyn clenched her eyes shut with grief as she pictured what happened to her father. _No, that would not happen to her!_ Emmalyn’s eyes flew open with her new found determination, gathering all that was left of her remaining strength. They were almost at the bottom of the stairs; a grain closet was nearby. Slowly, as to no startle her captor, Emmalyn’s hand slithered into her cloak, drawing out her garrote. She slipped it around his throat, and before he realized what the odd pressure around his throat was, she began her attack. She slung her body around her captor, so that she was positioned on his back instead of over his shoulder, as began to gasp for breath. he dropped her so that he could claw at the thin wire depriving him of the air that he desperately needed. The sounds of gagging filled the air, her captor slammed her against the wall in an attempt to dislodge from his back and regain oxygen. Emmalyn winced at the pain, she could feel bruises form allover her back, but she did not lessen the grip on her garrote, instead tightening the strangle hold on his neck. His face turned purple, eyes bulging from his already putrid face. After a few moments, his resistance stopped, his arms fell slack as he collapsed on the stone floor.

    Emmalyn rolled herself off his body, whimpering, the wire had cut her hands bloody and the stinging pain made her want to cry. She glanced at her would be captor, he didn’t seem to be breathing, a tin bloody line circling his throat, revulsion crept up and she forced herself to look away from the man she’d killed. She collected her garrote from where it landed on the floor and slipped back into her cloak. Emmalyn slowly stood up, the curse waring through her system, her shoulder twinged; using the wall to steady herself as she slowly made her way to the grain closet. A wave of lightheadedness swept through her, stumbling along the seemingly endless corroder. She knew she had to hurry, as the rest of the brigands could not be far behind, looking for her, but she could get her legs to move any faster. It was if they were filled with lead. She hoped that she was not leading a blood trail right to her hiding place. Her vision swam as she faced the wooden door to the closet, the brass handle seemed so far away as she tried to open the door to safety. Emmalyn fell inside, the door was unlocked, knees buckled as she looked to a place to hide. The room smelled like must and earth; bags of varying types of grain nearly filling the room.

    Emmalyn turned to the door, having it unlocked would be a very big problem if the Lord and his men decided to look in here. With trembling arms, Emmalyn shoved bags of grain against the door, draining her already diminished energy, sweat dripped from her brow, muscles shaking. Her long blond hair uncoiled from her attack, stuck to her face and neck, as she moved the grain. Her task completed, she crawled to the corner of the room and laid down on a sack of rice. The burlap was itchy against parts of her uncovered skin, but it would have to do. Emmalyn reached her hand back and uncoiled the rest of her hair from its intricate bun. Long blond hair spilled down the sack onto the floor. Her hand dropped onto her chest, completely spent. Emmalyn closed her eyes as the full effect of the curse finally took hold. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Does anybody want me to continue this?


End file.
